Another Life
by EmelineCarter92
Summary: A few months after George's birth, Mary dies in a car accident. How will it affect the family? Will Matthew ever find love and happiness again? I haven't decided if this is a one shot or series of one shots. It will depend on the reviewers. I've been enjoying writing these!
1. Day One

"I can put away Mary's things so you don't have to look at them." Anna said. She watched him as he picked up the stuffed dog from the bureau. He was holding it together, it appeared on the surface, but Anna saw him, when ever he looked at something of Mary's, he looked as if he was going to fall apart.

"No. That's alright Anna. I'll be sleeping in my dressing room, tonight." Maybe forever. Her things could be packed away out of sight, but he would still think of them. Everything in this house was a reminder of her, the devastating grief is like a phantom, sticking to him like a shadow, haunting him.

It takes a toll on everyone, especially, Cora and Robert. They had lost another daughter. They fail to notice his own grief.

"Could you leave me alone for a moment, Anna?"

Anna nods and goes.

The crumpled duvet bore the marks of two bodies that lay side by side that last afternoon at home. He was numb; stunned. He crawled under the covers and lay there without tears.

_I need to get up, take a bath, shave and get ready. I'll pop in on George before I go over today's duties._

He got out of bed, undressed, turned on the water and stepped in.

He went to the closet and remembers, his clothes are no longer there, only Mary's clothes still hung. He runs his fingers over them. They stop at the familiar wine colored dress. A favorite of his. She had broken his heart in it. He had proposed to her while she'd been wearing it, twice.

Taking it off the hanger, rather forcefully as the hanger refused to let go,as if it too wanted to stop the passage of time. A day without her was far too long. George and Downton had to be his first priorities. That's what Mary would have wanted. It's what he had to do, or he'd lose his mind. His son needed him. George who looked nothing like Mary. He was only a few months old, and his looks could change.

After wrestling with the hanger for a while, the dress dropped to the floor, as the hanger broke.

He picked up the dress, dusting it off quickly, although there was no dust. Anna must still clean this room, even though no one occupied it. It had become somewhat of a sealed time capsule, and untouched shrine. Her way of coping with the loss. Anna. She would lose her job. He was sure if he spoke to Robert, he could convince him to let her stay on, they could find something for her. Anna had been Mary's friend. She would know more about Mary, things she could never tell him. He felt guilty of the thought, that it would be taking advantage of her death to uncover her secrets and insecurities.

He sits on the bed and holds it up to his face. He inhales, inhaling her sent. He gives in, letting the dam break.

There was a knock on the door. He barley hears himself mutter, "come in." He places it on the bed next to him, partially hiding it underneath him.

He is relieved that it's only Edith. "I thought I would find you here." She notices that his eyes are puffy but she doesn't say anything.

He stares at the closet. His eyes fall on the suitcases. They had been planning to go on there second honeymoon to Gretna Green. They had planned out George's future, where he would get his schooling, maybe sending George to Eaton when he got older. Mary would buy George his first pony once he turned four. All just days ago.

It was their last conversation that haunted him, yesterday morning when she had gone out, never to return. Their last exchange hadn't been hateful words. He wished they had been meaningful words. Not just mindless jargon about nothing.

And the unanswered questions. Had he made her happy? Had be been a good husband? Did he make the most of loving her?

How he wished she would have written a letter, telling him that she was leaving. He'd have preferred it. At least she'd be alive. But his Mary would never do that, never leave their son, her family. _Then why did you leave us? _ He tried to think of happier thoughts. He went back to their conversation two nights ago.

_"Why four?" He had asked her, "you got your first pony when you were three." _

_ "Boys take more time to mature." He had glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. __ "You're the exception darling." She had kissed him on the cheek and turned over and went to sleep. _

It made him want to smile and laugh, thinking of that now. But stopped himself. Laughing felt wrong. Mary couldn't laugh anymore. And smiling, it seemed forced. That beautiful smile. He always enjoyed it being the first thing he saw when he woke up in the mornings, what he looked forward to, to start his day. He simply started his day solely for George, it seemed, and his business with managing Downton. He has gone back to his old ways, a creature of habit, carrying out his duty, rather than a human being. Waking up was an accomplishment with in itself.

Just this morning when he had woken up, he had expected her to be there next to him, only to remember that he was in his dressing room. His first thoughts were, _he and Mary must have had a row or disagreement, or he had stayed up to late and didn't want to wake her. Then he remembers. What a strange thing grief does. _

"We had so many plans." _There is a term used in bereavement literature for a young death: an "off-time" death. I find it graceful and apt. When your spouse dies an off-time death, you, too, fall out of time. You drop out of sync with your contemporaries. _Even his thoughts were business like, he breathed it. George kept his heart beating. A part of her. _I wish you could be here darling._

"Mary thought that death was fifty years away."

"I feel like I'm nothing with out her. I'm not even a husband anymore."

"You're a father." Edith squeezed his arm. He was tired of people doing that, as if they thought it would pull him back together, anchor him to the real word. "first and foremost." She added. "He's going to need you."

"He's my main focus. Tom said it would help."

"Have you picked out something for her to wear?" Edith changed the subject, turning her attention to the closet.

"Here." He takes the dress out from under him, and shows her. She goes to grab it from him but he doesn't relent his grip on the fabric, reluctant to let it go.

"It was her favorite dress." He lessons his hold and hands it to his sister in-law.

"Are you sure?" She wanted him to be sure that he didn't want to hold on to it for sentiment value.

He nods. "It'll be perfect. She'll look beautiful don't you think?"

"I was never one for Mary's sense of high fashion."

He smiled and made a small laugh, even though it felt wrong. He found, shockingly, that it wasn't false nor forced. He thought of how Edith and Mary would fight. What Mary would be saying now. _ She wouldn't be saying anything because we wouldn't be having this conversation. _His expression then turned somber. "I was wondering..." He paused, licking his lips, nervously, as he tried to find the right words, without sounding crazy. "if I could hold on to it. Until then."

Edith looked upon him in understanding, handing it back to him. "Yes. Of course."


	2. 7 days-6 months

_ A few days ago_

They had arrived at the hospital. Matthew had just exited the small gray room, which Mary's body was being held. He had just identified her. His mother had asked to go in with him, but this was something he had to do alone.

"I don't know where to go," He told his mother. He didn't need to explain his meaning to his mother. She understood. His mind was blurred with shock and grief. He didn't know what to do next.

In a shining moment of motherly-wisdom, she responded, "We'll just go forward." She squeezes his arm and then says, "George must be a very robust baby by now." She had gotten back from her holiday to France, visiting distance cousins on her mother's side.

He finds himself blaming her, which is an irrational thought, he knows that. _Where were you mother? When I needed you? _But this was not the time for anger.

"Yes. Very jolly."

Isobel sees he smiles but she is worried by the tone in his voice.

There were arguments on both sides. Isobel thought that Matthew should make the funeral plans. Violet had agreed with her, reminding her son and daughter in-law, that Matthew was her husband. He has the right to make the arrangements for her funeral.

Isobel and Edith had accompanied him to Graspies. As the three of them, sitting at a round table, listening as the funeral director talked, Matthew tries to focus on what he is saying but the words seemed to become muted. It's like he's living in a dream, everything around him feels fuzzy, like he's not really here.

All this talk of caskets, if she was to be cremated. If there was anything he wanted to add to the eulage, he wanted it all to stop. He just wanted to not think. To not think that this was real, just for a few more moments.

He gets up from the chair.

Both women watch as he silently walks out. They turn back. The funeral director continues talking but Isobel interrupts, excusing herself, then saying something to Edith.

He finds himself standing in the door way of a room full of people. At the front of the room is a casket, an old woman weeping over it. A young woman makes her way over to her to hold her hand, possibly her daughter. Mourning for her husband.

It brought back the memories of his father's funeral. He had imagined that he would be the one to die first, not Mary. Not his Mary. Not till they were old and gray.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He imagines the first time he saw her. She was quite angry with him for insulting her aristocracy. From the first moment, he couldn't quite say he fell in love with her just then. It had just been attraction sure, perhaps infatuation.

Love had to grown. They had to go threw heartbreak and tragedy to find each. This and that had kept them apart._ You will not be happy with anyone else as long as Lady Mary walks the earth._ Tom's words haunt him. Just like the memories of her. That's all they were now. Just a memory. _I will never be happy with anyone else as long as I walk this earth._

"Matthew? Matthew, what are you doing?" Before he turns his head toward his mother, before he has to see the look of pure agony and despair on his face, he is saved by Edith's interruption. His head is down while Isobel's attention turns to her, he takes advantage to get himself back under control.

"The funeral's the day after tomorrow." Edith said. She made an uneasy smile, "I chose oak, if that's alright. White roses...think she'd like those."

He finds himself nodding.

* * *

Matthew took tea with his mother at Crawley House a week after the funeral. He'd been staying with her since then. He was staring out the day window at the rain, as his mother came into the room with two cups of tea. She put one of them in front of him.

He scarcely re-directed his gaze to anything else but the window, now even whilst lifting the cup from the table, taking a sip. He only did so when he placed it back at the table. Then back at the window again.

"We were talking about the car."

"What?"

"Don't scratch the car." He smiled. Then it turned into a frown. "That's the last thing I said to her." Isobel looked at her son with a worrisome look, "I know what you're thinking. I'm not blaming myself, thinking that I should have stopped her, done something but I know that won't change anything." He said with a grim reality. "It won't bring her back."

They remain silent for a while. His mother is first to speak after the long silence. "Shouldn't it be about time to return back to Downton?" She's asking him he is ready to go back.

"I'll stay here. I was thinking I could get some work done in. Where it's quiet."

"You have your son to think about. He will need you now."

"Robert and Cora will need him now. They have their heir. I'm sure they'll hire a good nanny for him. I'm sure they'll do a better job without me, raising a motherless child. They'd be kind enough to let me pop in to see him from time to time, especially when I have the weekend."

"You really don't mean that Matthew. You're just.."

" Grieving? Hurting? Everyone is. I'm just trying to...navigate my new predicament. Don't look at me like that, mother. You know that I will always put him first. I just need to work." He always worked hard when he was deeply troubled. He was just like his father in that way. "I'll visit Mary first. Then I'll see George."

He goes to her grave. He envisions that this will become a habit. He'd leave flowers there for her, and he'd replace them after they would wither and die. _If people were like flowers. _

He kneels down, where her head stone is yet to be place. "You are my favourite," They always used to say that to each other. He pauses a long time. There is a crack as he inhales. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met." He pauses again. "Indubitably. I will miss you and I will love you forever."

* * *

_6 months later _

Matthew spend more time with his work and with managing Downton. But more recently he had taken more interest with spending time with his son. His mother had come to visit Downton to see him and her grandson.

"He is a handsome chap, isn't he?" Matthew beamed brightly, proud of his son, simply for him being, this blessing he had helped make.

"That dark hair won't be permanent." Isobel stated. "It will fall out and before you know it, he'll have a head of blonde hair."

"How do you know that?"

"Because that's what happened with you."

"I hope it won't. He looks nothing like her. If his hair stays the same..."

"He's still changing. He will look quite different when he's a year old. He might look more like you or like Mary, even a good mix of the both of you."

"You know, he does gets this scowl, like Mary would get when he doesn't have his way."

"You'll have to put your foot down more sternly if he is to take after his mother."

"And he would always win." Matthew smiled at the thought. Mary would often win their arguments. "Mary was the stern one. I'll be too soft on him." He kisses his son on the forehead. He still has that baby smell, the smell of innocence. He doesn't know his mother is gone, just like Sybie had when she had been born.

"I very much doubt that."

"I do love him mother. I love him so much."

She didn't doubt that. "I know you do. You'll always do what's best for him."

"I haven't been lately. I haven't been a good father so far."

"You're still trying to come to terms with your grief. It's understandable. I would've been more concerned if you hadn't wanted to see him at all."

He put George down for his nap. Then he and his mother walked the halls together. They entered the day room so that they could talk alone. It was strange that this would still all be his. He had held onto it, the title for Mary. That was Mary's dream. He had pictured himself running it with her by his side. The future Earl and Countess of Grantham. How fine. How right they would look. He never had his own dream, his dream had been Mary's dream for her to be happy and he'd been content with that. And now...now he was free to chase his own dream. He didn't know what it would be. What it would look like. Just imagining a future without her was horrifying and so terribly frightening, for his son, and what his life would look like. The man he was, was dead, died along with Mary. How could he be a father to George, a good, decent father? They were supposed to do this together.

"I can't...I can't do this without her mother."

"You can and you will." She looked at him with confidence. "I never much cared for Mary to begin with but then I saw how she's changed, how you changed her, and how happy she made you. I was happy with that."

"We were..." He started but couldn't get the rest out. He started chocking on his words. "We were so..." _We were so happy._ He swallowed. Holding back the tears, till he couldn't anymore. Isobel took him into her arms.

"There. Let it out. Let it all out." She waited till his tears subsided. "It might not seem like it now but one day, you will be happy again. Whilst it be with another woman...and I do believe that you will find love again. I'm not saying you have to look for someone or get married again right away, if you ever want to."

"I don't know if I can love again mother. After a dead fiance and a dead wife, I seem to have awfully bad luck with women, if I'm not mucking it up, with my black and white view of things, or stumbling over my own words."

"You will have no trouble in that department. You are a very handsome and charming man and well educated. The ladies will flock to you."

"I won't encourage their advances. Mary still fills my thoughts. And I'd be comparing them to her and it wouldn't be fair..." He broke off, his eyes filling with tears again. He shakes his head as if he's trying to shake them away. "I won't be looking for a wife. Not for a very long time at least. That is, if I'm ever ready."

"You will." She put her hand to his face and he smiled. He was starting to come back to the world for he had spent to long in between the living and the dead.


	3. 7 Months

It was the board meeting today. Robert had told him he didn't need to go. Matthew would attend to represent Downton and George. The Earl was genuinely relieved that he was taking interest in the world again.

Cora and Carson seemed to glare at him. He could feel their eyes on him, every time his back was turned. While Robert no longer seemed to blame him. This was probably just all in his mind. Everyone wanted to blame someone or something. Unfortunately he had been most of the families immediate target, after the first day.

"_I always thought that car was a bloody omen." Robert was pacing the room, trying not to give into his grief. _

_"If Matthew didn't drive so carelessly, he wouldn't have encouraged Mary." This was from Cora._

_"Don't you dare blame my son!" His mother had come to his defense. "I suppose, you'd blame us, for inviting us here, that if you hadn't, Mary would still be alive." _

_Violet and Edith were also his devoted advocates, while Matthew just watched on in helpless silence. Tom stood by him as well, literally. He was swaying a bit as if he was drunk. Grief would do that to you._

_The Dowager Countess was trying to talk over everyone, Edith stepped in._

_"Will all of you just be quiet? I know that v_erbally lashing out at **others**; laying **blame** on something or **someone** else is a natural reaction, but not if it's used as an excuse." Everyone turned to look at her, "And I know if Sybil was here, that's exactly what she would say. And if we were to continue on like this, and let it get the best of us, we're all just insulting her memory and Mary's."

"Thank you, dear." Her grandmother squeezed her arm.

"I did my best, it was not my fault" _You would forgive others, so why not forgive yourself? He must have said his thoughts out loud because they look at him strangely. He feels disoriented, detached, _inability to concentrate or focus.

"Of course you did, Matthew. And it wasn't." His mother was saying.

The rest is a fog to him. He had spent six months in that fog. The seventh month, it started to lift.

It was still a shattered and divided house.

* * *

_Tony Gillingham, Mary's old childhood friend, had come to pay his respects. He had tried to befriend Matthew but Matthew showed little to no effort in return. He could talk about Mary, bringing up his memories of her, with ease. He could not. It was still very early days. He had no doubt Gillingham meant well. He made would make occasional visits to the house. _

_Things were not as gloomy in the sixth month, his mind a bit clearer. He found it a bit easier to talk to Tony, they were like minded in so many ways, and he did not have memories of Mary to associate with this man and couldn't imagine him with Mary. He hadn't know Mary as a child, he had. It just had been hard to talk about her before. But those moments of bringing her up had passed. They mostly focused on talking about business. _

Seven months later, he came with a friend Charles Blake, that he thought would help, with the tenant farmers. Tony would soon began to bring his fiance to dinners with him.

"Miss Mabel Lane Fox." Tony introduced her.

Matthew already knew that the woman was trouble from the way she was stealing glances at him when Tony wasn't looking.

The next morning was the meeting. He was dreading it. Wondering if he was actually ready. He hesitated out side the door.

Maybe they would smell the grief of him. Think he wasn't competent enough yet. He was after all, walking into the lions den. He was after all just a middle class solicitor.

All that was put at ease when he entered the room. Tom was beaming at him from where he sat, glad to see him friend return to the fold. He still had a hard, long road ahead of him. He got up from his own chair and offered it to Matthew, which Matthew tried to humbly refuse.

"No. You belong here." He patted his friend on the shoulder, as if to say welcome back.


	4. 11 Months

"The young people kept on dancing. There seemed to be a dance held every night of the week. This was a new age and it belonged to the young. As Rose's upcoming season would prove. The men that would be attending would mostly be middle ages as most of the young men who would they would be presented to had died in the war.

Rose and Edith had encouraged him to go.

"You'd be the most elidgable man there." Rose stated. "Most men there will be in their forties." Matthew's face looked a bit grave. "Or older...Edith's bringing Evelyn Napier."

Edith had gotten back from her trip to Switzerland. She looked better rested. Everything was 'taken care' of, as she told him when he asked about how the adoption went. He felt it wasn't a matter he should press. She wasn't keeping it from him intentionally, or at least he thought, it was too painful. He had offered to help her find Gregson after he discovered she had been pregnant.

"Edith, are you alright?" She had looked sad, distraught. He had never asked her. He had been drowning in his own grief. "I never asked. I was caught up in my own grief."

"We all were." She said.

"Not you. You stayed by my side and for that I'd be forever grateful."

"I wish we could have made things right with each other."

"She probably would have."

"But that's not what's really troubling me. It's Micheal."

"Micheal? It wouldn't be Micheal Gregson?"

"Yes."

"I pacifically told him not to pursue you after I found out he was married."

"You did? That was you?" She was a bit shocked and angry. Michael hadn't been in contact with her for a while, until recently. They had spent a night in London a few months ago and she hadn't heard from him since. "Why would you do..?"

"You're my sister in-law, and you know I did the same for cousin Rose, because you're family. He didn't start pursuing you again after my wishes?"

"No. I was the one doing the pursuing. He'd gone to Germany to get a divorce. And I haven't heard from him in months, nothing." She had gone pale of a sudden.

"Edith you look unwell. You're not...you're pregnant."

Edith nearly looked as if she was about to drop. "How do you know?"

"As I've been an expectant father once, and I see the way you put you're hand to your stomach, no one else might not have noticed it, I don't think you intentionally mean to do it. Mary used to do it." He looked away "Has anyone else suspected?"

"Only Aunt Rosemund knows. She's coming up from London. So we can discuss things. I've contacted a private investigator about Michael. He's not sure if he can be much help." She swallowed on her last word.

"I'll see what I can do, to help you find Gregson. I might have connections, some legal consults. If he's gotten himself into trouble and he can't get back..."

"Why? Why would you want to help?"

"A child needs both parents."

Gregson had been confirmed dead. And he understood all too well. Edith was beside herself, not sure what to feel other than guilt about grieving him and she didn't want to burden him with it.

"It doesn't seem fair because it's not the same." She almost chocked on her words, "it's not even remotely the same. You knew Mary longer. She was your wife. She was my...sister." _And I was always jealous of both of them and now I'm the only one left. Now I'm an only child. What a joke that is._ She wanted to say those words but refrained. It seemed all so trivial.

To which he had replied, "Love in not measured in moments or time you've known someone." She had suddenly embraced him and their bond as brother and sister in-law was reinforced even stronger. It was a surprise that she was going out onto the social scene so soon, perhaps to advert an unwanted attention and suspicion.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Not an accusing one. He was just curious, as he recalled how Napier had desperately avoided her advances. How on earth had she managed to?

"It's just for fun. He and I won't be looking, I know you won't. You could just do the same."

"Like that won't last at all." Rose nearly scoffed. She turned to Matthew with a cheerful smile. "Pretty soon you'll have more women than you know what to do with."

"In the meantime," Edith interrupted, we got a lot of planning to do. It's only a few weeks away."

Rose's great prophecy was to become true. Actually an intuition. Matthew Crawley was in fact a desirable man, he very well knew it, but never really understood it.

When he went in to work the next morning, Elise, his French secretary at the London office, was trying to flirt with him. She had always been sweet on him. She had started working there a few weeks after Mary's death, so she had never met her. She had to have been thwarting off her own advances, waiting for him because today he felt it was an ambush.

It started out first a casual conversation. He was taking over a review of the investments when she greeted him eagerly.

"Matthew, I had not seen you in such a long time!" She was already tugging at his coat to take it off, in hopes he would stay.

"Where is Solange?" She was the one that usually answered the door and took people's coat.

Elise and Solange had fled France before the start of the war, almost living in poverty by the wars end. And they were both grateful that he was able to find them jobs, Elise as his Secretary and Solange as the maid who would clean the office and answer the door. She was more grateful now to be taking off his coat.

It was just his coat but she couldn't help but imagine if someday she would be taking off more than just that.

_He's so handsome like the men back home. Solange is too old for him. She's the definition of old maid._

Solange looked young in the face but if you looked closely, she looked about to be in her mid forties, maybe forty-five. She was twenty-six, more closer to his age. Eleven years is not a big difference.

"She went out to get coffee."

"Ah, bless her. I'm going to need it. I just came by to drop these off, maybe go over the investments before I leave."

"You're not staying for dinner then?" She meant till dinner.

"I can't. I have to go home."

"And I thought you came to see me." She pouted. It made her appear younger than she was, although he didn't know how old she actually was. He never asked.

"Elise, you mustn't...must not flirt with me."

"Must not." She mused, "And what it I were to, what you say, flirt, is also in French the same." She would take him right now with such animal passion but it was not right. _He is respectable man and still yearns his wife. _

"It is not right. I'm your employer."

"And my friend."

"I would hope so. But nothing more."

"If I flirt you would never speak to me and send me away."

"I would do no such thing. But I'm afraid I encouraged you." She opened her mouth to speak but he put up his hand, it is exactly that. Because I depend on so much on seeing you. I have such a dull life and see such few people. "

"In that big fancy house with all those servants disposable?"

"Seeing the same faces everyday." He smiled and then his expression changed. Just his presence seemed to get ladies swooning. "They're hardly disposable." He said defensively.

She turned hot with embarrassment. Disposable to his every need. Why was is so hard to talk to him? "Horrible English." She said horrible in French. She waved the smoke from her cigarette, as if waving away her previous comment, to forget about it. "I am sorry. It is not fair. I must not provoke you." She said what exactly what was on his mind, "come, sit, you have no need to fear, we talk about business. Strictly. And to share my news."

He sat down beside her on the sofa. He asked if he could have one of her cigarettes. She gave one to him as he stated he'd rather have a cigar.

"You need not fear me, monsieur." She said as she lit it for him.

"I am not afraid of you." He said in disbelief, trying to not laugh.

"Well, I think you are. Just a little. It is very English, that it should be, say the woman to have upper hand?"

He smiled again. He wasn't thinking about Mary for once, when he realises, he should be. She was there to distract him from feeling.

"What is this news you mean to tell me?"

"I found work."

He turned to her, a little dismayed. "Another job? Don't you like it here? " He wondered if her obvious attraction to him would be too hard for her to put aside and now that he had brought it up it would make things awkward for them.

"No. I will not be leaving. I am to instruct the village dance."

"I'm surprised that dancing is still being taught. After the war, there didn't seem much need for that."

"Young ladies must dance with young soldiers when on leave. And young men go to be soldiers hope to dance when they can." Her English was excellent but she still had trouble with past and present pretenses at times. "Why won't they now? If young people do not dance how will they fall in love and marry. It will prepare the girls for the season, every woman loves a great man who can dance."

He knew she meant 'a good man.' Was he still one? _Nearly a year and you've already forgotten her, talking to another woman. _She's just not any woman. She's just Elise. They had already set the ground clear.

"You could come. I could teach you a few things." He had gone somewhere else briefly, before her last words brought his attention back.

"No. I'd be too busy. I don't think I'd be going."

She was a little sad but also hopeful.

"That's all they seem to do these days." He continued. "It's like the celebrating the end of the war never stopped."

"People need to dance when they can. They do not know when there will be another, so that is why they must dance, to make more soldiers. So someone must teach them." His face looked a little grave. She knows how the war must still be on his mind, when he's not being tortured by the memories of his wife, his longing to be with her. That made her face reality. She couldn't be the one to heal him. "And as long as there is dancing, there will always be little girls who want to learn ballet."

"Won't it be tiring?"

"It will be tiring but in that way. I always have time for you." She reached over to him for a hug. A hug goodbye, she cannot stay. "I do not like to idle, me. There is not much room for home making. Solange and I always wanted a bigger place. I will stay till then."

Then, one months later, one week before the London Season, Cora had invited her younger cousin Emma, a distant relation on her father's side. She was almost as tall as Cora, with brown hair, and same alabaster skin, and brown eyes. Matthew would pretend not to notice how similar she looked to Mary.

He hadn't been aware that she was coming. None of the family had. She had informed Robert that morning. He tried to get the real reason out of her, why she would she bring her cousin to Downton, whom she hadn't seen in years.

"She was a little girl when I last saw her."

"At our wedding."

"She's the same age as Sybil would be. You're thinking of someone else."

Before dinner Robert went up to have a talk with Matthew, Cora knew what the context of the conversation would be.

* * *

"I don't pretend to not know the reason why she's brought her here." Violet whispered to Isobel as Cora introduced Emma to the family. "She thinks no one else will compare. Get ready for a parade of undesirables. I think she is far too sweet."

""It is up to Matthew who he wants to spend his time with." Isobel refrained from saying the rest of his life with.

"He needs someone to challenge him. Every man needs a challenge."

"Well, I think that we can agree on."

"I think we're already to go in now." Cora announced.

The dinner was awfully silent, till Matthew who spoke, taking interest in the frock Emma was wearing. It looked familiar somehow.

"Mary had a dress just like it."

"Oh, I thought it would be O.k."

"No. It's not O.K. It's absolutely not alright." He threw his napkin down on the table and left the room.

The Dawager glanced back and forth and the members of the table toward the door, "Should...should someone say something?"

* * *

Anna's daily routine still consisted of cleaning Mary and Matthew's old bedroom. He wasn't sleeping in his dressing room anymore. He had since moved to the bachelor side of the house. No one hardly ever came in here but it wouldn't be right to let it go to dust and cobwebs.

She was surprised to see him, lying on the bed. "Oh, Mr. Matthew, I didn't know you'd be in here. I can come back later."

"No, it's alright. I won't be in your way. When you're finished, I'll ring the bell for you to make the bed."

He had started talking to her on a regular basis. It had also become a routine in the last several months. It was nothing like the talks she'd have with Mary but she enjoyed their conversations. He talked to her Mary, and what had just happened at dinner, Cora's cousin wearing one of Mary's dresses.

"I don't think she meant any harm in it but she should have asked." Anna agreed.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Mrs. Crawley's voice, "May I come in?"

Anna looked at Matthew, who nodded his approval. She opened the door for Isobel.

"Just ring the bell if you need anything." Anna made her way out.

"How did you know I'd be up here?" He asked his mother.

"I had a feeling." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I came up here to tell you goodnight I have a busy day at the hospital tomorrow and I must get up early...actually that's not really why I came up here. I came to check on you."

"I'm not a child, mother."

She ignored him. "How are you feeling?"

"I thought...I thought it'd be alright. Now."

"Grief doesn't have an expiration date. You learn to live with it over time but it does get easier."

Like he's still coming to terms with his nightmares about the war. He and Mary never talked to anyone about them. She had seen him through the worst of it. And it had gotten easier. But they had seemed to become worse this first year (when he had stayed at his mother's for that first week, they hadn't been bad, not to wake her, which had been a blessed relief) on top of the loss of her and everything else. Recently they had become far less and terrifying. If he did have a terrible one, which he expected would come tonight, no one could hear him from the far side of the house. No one to comfort him. The nightmarish hell he partially still thinks he deserves. He does want to try to live, just for the moment, till he feels alive again, for the others that couldn't, cut down in their young lives, Mary from a stupid car crash. All of it was a cruel twisted joke.

He had to live. He recalled his conversation with Violet, eight months ago. He had to live, not just for George. "Children can sense it and may come to resent you. Just look at Rosamund." Violet had said.  
He didn't ask her any questions. He let her continue to speak.

"You're as strong as our Mary was." She wanted him to choose life.

And what would he do with that life? How could he possibly share it with another?

How would a young woman understand? What he's been though in the war. Not only would she be taking on a widower, that would ache the loss of his first wife for the rest of his life, but a man scarred by war. And if he had found a widow, they would just swap tales of great sorrow. It would be too depressing.

_God. Why do I still feel like this? One moment you won't find yourself thinking about her. One moment it will hit you_. "I wish someone would have told me that at the start." He slightly laughed, then he straightened his posture, resting against the head board, his eyes hollow again, "Was it like this with father?"

"All the time. But I had you and you have George."

He mentally groaned. Had it been this hard for Tom?

He went out for a walk when everyone else went to bed. He found Tom in the stables, working on the car.

"Do you have a moment?" He asked his brother in-law, which Tom was happy to oblige. But they stood in silence, leaning against the car.

"How did you do it?" He asked Tom. He didn't mean for it to come out of the blue. He didn't try to keep herself from crying. He felt rather subdued from all of this crying, he was sick of it. Just when he thought he hadn't anymore tears.

"I'd like to tell you that it get's easier but I'm not." Matthew looked at him in surprise for he sounded a bit blunt. Then he spoke with compassion and a shared understanding. "You have to take it a bit at a time. Sometimes it's still hard. I look at our daughter and I see Sybil, only for a moment, in her eyes, in her smile, just a flicker and she's there. Then there are times when I'm busy, helping to fix cars, or managing the estate, there are hours, a few days where I don't think of her and I feel terrible. It's the most terrible thing. I go on."

Matthew takes a moment. That was what almost happened to him a month ago with Elise. But she had distracted him from feeling so terrible. He doesn't want to ask Tom how long it took for him to start forgetting. He had wondered if he had stayed at the office, let Elise, 'have her way', let her touch him, let her kiss him, soothe his hair the way Mary used to. He had dreamed after that, about a brown haired woman sitting with him in his office where he and Elise had sat, doing those things. Had it been Elise? Or had it been Mary he had been dreaming about?

That day in the office, he could tell when Elise had told him about the village dance, she had wanted it to be a permanent job, eventually, to teach it. It was made clear. That was her dream and he wasn't to be a part of it. Could he have been happy with Elise? He could not say.

He banished it from his mind. His heart still ached. He was still missing Mary. That was all it had been about.

""Thank you." He simply said.

"For what?"

"For listening. For...not asking how I am. I'm tired of people asking it, I suppose they don't know what else to say."

"No really does."

* * *

"Cora was sitting up in bed reading a magazine, when Robert came into the bedroom. She looked at him with round, sad eyes. "I'm afraid this was all my fault. I told her it was alright. She lost her luggage and she had nothing to wear. I didn't think how it would affect Matthew."

"Yes, that was terribly awful. But it will pass. It must've been a bit of a shock. Speaking of Matthew..."

"I already know what you two were talking about." She looked up at him again. "Why are you urging him to get remarried, Robert?"

"It is coming up on a year. I'm not talking about now but eventually... young men are expected to get married in the first year or so. And he's not that much younger if he waits too long. He needs to find a wife. He can't run the estate without a countess by his side. And I think you're being contrary, darling."

"About what?"

"Inviting your cousin Emma."

"I invited her to the season. She's been through a terrible loss like Matthew and I thought it would make her happy."

"So this has nothing to do with Matthew."

"Not in the slightest dear." She had gone back to her magazine, not taking her eyes of it.

* * *

"I don't think I'll be going." He told Tony.

"Why not?"

Matthew just shrugged.

They would all be around nineteen or twenty-one, girls to him. He was thirty-seven. He supposed compared to the other men, he would seem a more viable option. But he was not looking to wed, the whole purpose of the season was for the young women to find husbands. He'd feel like he'd be dangled in front of them, like some shiny bauble or prize, which he was sure the family would try. It's been nearly a year since Mary's death but that was not long enough. If he eventually wanted to, or seek any companionship with a woman, he wouldn't find it there. Robert had been nice enough about it, that he'd give him more time. They had arguments over it but his father in-law meant well. The past fives months he'd been treating him more as if he were his own son. It was as if he was focusing his fatherly duties on Matthew, that he would have on Mary.

"Your mother is bringing Lord Merton."

"Oh?"

"He asked her actually." Tony went on talking but he wasn't listening. Why would she not have told him about going with Lord Merton? Was she worried how it would effect him? His father had been dead for almost twenty years. And if it was his son Larry she thought would bother him, she didn't need to worry about that. Lord Merton had stood to Tom's defense when Larry had drugged Tom. It wasn't right to put the sins of the son on the father. He wasn't that sort of person. And if Larry was to show up, more than likely not, he could handle him.

"My cousin wasn't going to go. I managed to convince her." He finally heard his friend say.

"Tony, I know you mean you mean well but..."

"She isn't a debutante. She'll be presenting her cousin Madeleine Alsop."

"I though you said that she was your cousin."

"By marriage. She's about your age."

He had no chance but to try. He'd go with Edith's advice. He'd try to have fun.

* * *

**AN: A lot going on in this chapter! And to all who are wondering, yes, happiness to all in this fanfic. Even Edith will find hers. I don't think Matthew will end up 'just having fun'. I will probably introduce yet another character, Tony's cousin, who is also a widow (cheeky Tony doesn't mention it) as a potential interest for him, with Elise I think that has come and gone. And is Cora trying to set him up with her cousin? Will she accept anyone else?**


	5. The London Season

She asks him to dance. She wasn't as young as the others, if he was going to put it polity. She appeared closer to his age. He had watched her eyes catch him from across the room.

Well she didn't really ask. She did but then it was apparent that she was instant.

"Could I have this dance?"

"I can't."

"A man of your great standing, I hardly think. Lady Lucy Weston."

"Tony's cousin? He's told you all about me has he? I'm not very interest in..." He saw her blonde eyebrow raise. She had bluish-grey eyes. "in dancing."

Her other eyebrow raised. Had she detected the annoyance in his voice? He hadn't meant to sound that way.

"What else did he tell you?"

"That you're a great dancer. It would be an awful waste if we didn't put that to the test. Shall we?"

"I don't really..."

"Dance with me. If only it will make the other girls jealous."

"I can't."

Couldn't she tell she was teasing, maybe borderline flirting? Why would she? He wasn't the type she usually went for. She couldn't help but try to stop herself from blushing. She was bored, that was all. She was too old to believe in love at first sight.

"They'll stop starting at you. They'll be looking at us. And it would keep them from coming at you."

"Alright. What about your husband, won't he be jealous?"

"I don't have a husband."

_Tony._ He mentally groaned. But this woman, whom presence did not annoy him, surprisingly. If she was about the same age why wasn't she married? A woman like her surely couldn't have gone this long without being snatched up.

"To keep them from nagging at us later." He knew she no longer meant the younger ladies. He could see that Edith's and Rose's attention had turned to them. "The least we can do is enjoy ourselves."

_Sure, why not. What could it hurt. _

* * *

"Who is that, that Matthew is dancing with?" Cora tried to keep her eyes on Matthew in the crowd. He had both managed to escape Madeline Alsop and Emma. He was dancing with a blonde haired woman. They seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"Why? If things were reversed would you expect Mary to wear black for the rest of her life, like Queen Victoria?" Violet asked her daughter in-law?

Isobel instantly felt like someone walked over her grave.

When Cora didn't answer, Violet continued, "I didn't think so."

* * *

"Looks like she likes way older men." Rose nodded sadly towards Madeline and Howard. Miss Alsop had already moved on to Cora's brother, Harold, chatting him up. She rarely left his arm. But their spirits heightened as they saw Matthew dancing with an unknown blonde woman. She had nearly made a beeline toward Matthew. He hadn't seen her coming but Rose had.

"Oh, look, over there!" Rose had tapped Edith.

"Who's that?" Edith asked.

"My friend Madeline's cousin. She's hardly his type anyway."

"Her?"

"No. Madeline but I won't pretend I'm not angry with her later. That's Lady Lucy Weston, she was Tony Gillingham's cousin."

Edith felt a bit old that she didn't know the in's of who everyone was in the social circles, but then again she had been out of the scene for some time.

"Her husband died four years ago, in the war. At Passchendaele."

Across the room Lucy was telling Matthew the exact same thing.

'Oh." He didn't say sorry because he had a feeling it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

There eyes caught each other instead.

After the song finished she thanked him, for making her night a little less boring, she seemed to add in haste, then, "I think our cross paths again?"

"Sure." It wasn't exactly a promise.

* * *

He had narrowly escaped Emma, well she hadn't been interested either, so it hadn't been hard. It had almost been difficult, impossible to shake Miss Alsop. He had heard her father talking about their fanatical problems. As soon as he had excused himself from his Alsop, that was when she turned her sights.

Was that all any of them were after? A solution to their problems? He was tired of being the solution. He sat down at table next to Evelyn while everyone danced. He had just finished with Lady Weston. It hadn't been entirely unpleasant. He had actually enjoyed it.

"I think our paths will cross again?" She had asked him, not trying to sound hopeful.

"Sure."

There had been a lapse of silence, before she was the one to excuse herself.

"Attempted to avoid capture?" Matthew teased Evelyn as he sat down.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Lucky us."

"Urh...yes."

He had seen Napier about to reach for one of the girl's purses, instead of making a scene, he'd gone over to distract him. Why would he want to steal whatever was in the purse? He knew lot of people were falling on hard times after the war. There were still soldiers begging on the streets.

When Evelyn was called away, Matthew picked up the purse. He'd hold onto it until he figured out who it belonged to.

* * *

"Did you have fun last night?" His mother beamed brightly at him in the doorway of Crawley House.

"Depends on what you mean by fun." He entered, walking past her.

Moments later Mosley had the tea prepared.

"You seemed to have enjoyed yourself last night." Isobel stated.

"I did." He replied as he took a sip and set his cup back on the table. Matter of fact. And he hadn't felt guilty about it.

"Anyone you took an interest to?"

"Even if I had intended to marry mother, I don't want to be married to a child that would have to take care of me before she's even thirty. She'd be my nurse longer than she'd be my wife."

"That didn't stop me and your father."

"There was only ten years difference."

Reggie had been born in 1844 and Isobel in 1854. There had been an age gap but Matthew was right, these girls were sixteen, eighteen years younger. It still didn't feel right to deny them. All the young men they would have married had been killed in the war.

If he wasn't ready to start, even consider, he wasn't ready. It was had only been a year after all. She just wanted to see him happy.

She and Reggie had struggled to have children for years. After several miscarriages, a still birth, and a baby who died in his crib, they had all but given up. She was nearly thirty when she had Matthew. She could have lost him too, and they had thought that they would, given her history of difficulty with childbirth. But somehow they hadn't. He was their miracle. Their blessing.

_God was smiling down on you, my dear boy. _She could hear Reggie's voice, see him caressing the back of his fingers lightly against a swaddled baby Matthew's cheek. The memory of her young self and birth bed blurred, she could only see her husband and her son.

He was born with a head full of dark hair.

Isobel had brown hair and Reggie's was almost black. So they were surprised when it had fallen out and grew back light, so light that he had appeared almost bald. The blue eyes he'd gotten from Isobel but they had a brightness to them, that didn't belong to her. They were completely Matthew.

He got his fair complexion and his blonde hair from the French side from her mother's family, she believed. Matthew had been far too young to remember his French great-grandmother, Jeanne-Marie who died in her nineties when he was three, the french phrases they would speak, a secret language died with her._ Grand-mere,_ he would call her, and she would call him, '_mon garcon_, 'my boy'.

Very teasingly Isobel would mention to her grandmother about it, that he had a rather french face than an English one, and Jeanne had been very proud of it. He looked more like his father though. "you have his forehead and his ears and his smile." She teased him about it but had meant it with affection. Her Reggie wasn't completely gone, he was there in their son. She hoped he would find that with George.

"The woman you were dancing with, Miss Weston, she seems rather nice."

"Lady Weston. And we were just dancing mother. We were both bored. We decided to have a bit of fun. That's all. She's no more interested in marriage than I am."

"What about Miss Mabel Lane Fox?"

"She's only interested because I'd have more money and a bigger estate than Tony Gillingham one day. I'm a prospect to her, an oriment to wear on her arm. And she's as stiff as a bored. I don't know what Tony sees in her. I don't doubt what they have isn't real but if she's willing to toss him aside when something better comes along..." He trailed of a thought striking him, she's never stand up to Mary. She had that same 'coldness' as Mary but she had none of her spark, none of her warmth. _And that is why, I'm not ready._

"What is it?"

'Nothing. Let's not talk about it anymore."

"You mean you don't want to talk about it anymore."

_I'm still thinking about her. I'm still comparing her._ "What about you? Lord Merton escorting you."

"Same as you, just having fun."

"Really now, mother?" He gave her a quizzical, cheeky look, a smile creeping onto his face.

It was so good to have her boy back.


	6. 1 Year- 1 Year-four months

Rose was still on about Lady Weston and Matthew dancing the other night. "I hope Tony hadn't set that up."

"Why not?" Edith asked, she tried to pretend that she was interested. It was the night of Rose's coming out ceremony. She should be focusing about that. Being presented in front of the King and his Court would have made Edith nervous.

"If something were to happen, I don't think it will, he needs to be careful. He could drive them apart before anything could get started."

"You read way too many romance novels." Edith lamented. She was feeling a little bubbly from drinking, trying to keep from laughing, all the while trying to keep from thinking of Gregson and their child.

"I don't read. It's more satisfactory to watch it play out in real life."

Rose's friend Freda Dudley-Ward, came up to them. "Rose."

Edith used this as an excuse to dismiss herself.

"Are you making your rounds to all the presentation courts? You are good." Rose said enthusiastically.

"There are only four, and David, I mean the Prince, likes me here. He says you were very sweet about him."

"Is something the matter?" Freda sounded deeply upset. Was she interested in the prince and thought she'd steal him away? But then again, as she recalled, she had managed to get Matthew to dance, after Lady Weston had parted from her. Though after once dance, he had gone off looking for Lady Lucy, with whom he had continued to talk the rest of the night.

"Do you know about that letter we were laughing about the other night?"

Oh, so that was what she was worried about? "Yes?"

"Well the thing is when I got home, I couldn't find my bag."

"And the letter was in your bag?"

"Yes. I couldn't let the servants search high and low for it...I was hoping that you could have taken it and held on to it, or taken it out before it went missing?"

"No. Did you try Madeline?"

"It wasn't her. If it fell into the wrong hands..."

Matthew approached them, wearing his red military jacket as many of the other men were wearing. He looked a bit uncomfortable in it. He had had doubts of putting it on.

Miss Dudley-Ward smiled brightly at him, while Rose was playing with her beads, around her neck, looking a bit anxiously.

"Cousin Matthew!" Rose said excitedly, as if to distract him, "This is a friend of mine, Miss Freda Dudley-Ward."

"Yes, as I recall." She had not been unpleasant either.

"She's misplaced her bag the other night."

"This wouldn't be yours by any chance?" He had produced the purse from the inside of his jacket.

"Oh thank goodness, you are a life saver." Freda retrieved it from him, causally. Their fingers slightly brushed. _And defiantly one to keep around. _

"You shouldn't leave things lying around." He cautioned them. "There are some unsavory people out there, and very unsavory men that would spike a young girls drink."

"Yes, cousin, Matthew, we'll be more careful next time." She turned back to her friend, and whispered, crisis averted."

* * *

There was no doubt that Matthew Crawley had been the most sought out at the Season. He had sophistication and charm and magnetism that had gathered a set of so called 'brightest sparks of London' He was the second most sought out after the Prince of Wales. Lucy's friend Freda Dudley-Ward knew the Prince. It was a small world. How had they had not all crossed paths sooner? She wasn't originally going to attend.

She herself had only been approached by one man named Angus Fletcher.

Fortunately she caught sight of him from across the room. She excused herself and approached him, propositioning him to dance, not to rescue him or rather herself.

When the music stopped, she went to go get herself a drink int the refreshment room.

She was surprised when she came up to her.

"Does this happen to belong to you." He held up a small coin purse with a flower pattern.

"No. I'm afraid. And I would hardly ever own something like that." Or carelessly leave it lying around. She wanted to make a quip about it might belonging to one of his hoard of young girls, but didn't want to sound rude.

Had he intentionally sought her out, using the purse as an excuse? No, surely not. He poured her a glass of champagne.

"I was rather hoping for some punch."

"Terrible for the indigestion. This is better for your health. I have to give it to the Flintshires, they have good taste."

"And no one is wearing a kilt. Or playing that ghastly bagpipe music."

Matthew smiled at that, remembering at Duneagle, as the sharp noise that had assaulted his hearing at the Maclare's dinner table. "it's never easy on the ears. Though I'd like to hear your dislike of kilts expanded."

"Oh dear, I just realized that you're related to them." She hadn't meant to be insulting. She had a habit of sounding insulting, not realizing it. Even sometimes when she complimented someone. _You might mean__ well, but other people aren't always going to view it that way_. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism.

"Only by marriage. Lord Grantham's mother is Lady Flintshires Aunt." He went on to explain how he was related to Robert and Cora. "I know I'll probably make a pretty lousy Earl. Pretty poor return for all that work and effort." He told her about their apparent disapproval as his profession as a solicitor. "Robert had been generous about it only because he thinks it an asset to the estate because I know the in's and out's of the law. But it hasn't been easy coming, he was completely against modernization."

"You'd rather have a career?" She never heard of anyone in their circles having a working class job.

"I'd like to prove that I can make a living from myself, contribute something rather than relying on a well cushioned life that's been handed over to me."

"You'd be like a king. They'd adore you. If you completely embrace it."

"Perish the thought. I'm having far too much fun as I am!" She heard the hurt under the laughter and wondered about that. "I can't go back and be diligent and dull."

It couldn't be just his wife's death that changed him. He couldn't go back after what he witnessed and done during the war. There were many men she had met that were in the same boat, young men made old before their time. They had lost the world that they knew and felt they didn't fit in anymore. They came back to a new world that they were unfamiliar with yet they had to find their way to forge forward. How do they do it? Attend social events, dances, and drink and make merry. But that didn't change that there were still problems, that the world was not how they left it. It was peace time but they were still far away from peace.

_He's never talked to about it to anyone. Perhaps not even his wife. _She was just getting to know him and didn't want to cross that boundary, not just yet. She didn't want to hinder their budding, possible friendship.

* * *

_Four months later _

Matthew Crawley was a creature of habit, Lucy had come to observe. She wondered if he had always been this way. He'd go to his wife's grave at 9 a.m, before he went to work.

On weekends he'd go to the pub with Tony, Charles Blake and Tom Branson. They would sometimes catch a cricket match. Then he'd visit the grave afterwards unbeknownst to anyone.

One of those days, she decided to follow him. He replaced the flowers as he always did.

Then did something different this time, or maybe she hadn't seen him do it. She never stayed long after he'd come to see his wife. He walked down the path, to the opposite part of the cemetery. The rows were lined with white crosses instead the regular grave stones. He knelt down in front of one that had gone untidy. When he was finished, and left the cemetery she carefully went over to it, without being seen.

_** PVT**._ **_William T. Mason _**

**_ 1897-1918_**

**_ Beloved Husband_**

**_ and _**

**_ Son of Charles and Agatha Mason _**

These were military graves. The boys from the village who didn't come home. Who was this William to him? Did he feel guilty over his death, as much as he did for his wife? Surely one couldn't feel that much guilt. Why would he come here then if it would be nothing but torture for him.

There was another reason one would come to a cemetery. There was something healing in this ritual of coming and talking to the dead. Her thoughts took her back to France, the death, the dying, from wounds they should be able to treat. It was the wounds of the mind that intrigued her. She's seen many young men struggle battles over and over in their heads. It was never over for them. Was it over for him? Many of them never found comfort. None of them returned home the same. They suffered from terrible nightmares, if not from terrible shell shock. They were forever changed.

Maybe she could be the process of his healing. He had only had one love, only married for a year, a widower the next. He had given up on love, that she could tell.

Show him how to love again? Female companionship was essential to thrive. _Love? When did that come into it?_

Coming here had helped him in some way. But it wasn't healthy.

She bent down in front of the young privates grave, pulling at the few stubborn weeds that he had missed.

"You're making a good job of it."

She turned to see it was one of the cemetery workers.

"It's sad to see them uncared for." She said.

"It is. After all those boys have given. Their only son killed. His mother died before him, bless her. It killed his father, it did, I think."

"Is that why his grave goes unattended?"

"Oh, no, he's not dead. His father is too old to make it down all the time. His daughter in-law keeps him goin. It doesn't go unattended for long like the others. I suppose it's her that comes down here."

Mr. Mason managed to make it down to the cemetery with Daisy, long after Lucy had left. He thanked his daughter in-law for keeping his sons grave.

"I do it sometimes Mr. Mason. But it wasn't me."

* * *

In the past few months she knew more from observing him than actually talking to him. In that span of time she had attend the same social events as the Crawley family as they had the same social connections. Her mother was a cousin to Lady S. who knew the Flintshires.

She enjoyed the conversations they'd have and his company. They complimented each other in a way. They both ignored it. Not looking for love for entirely different reasons.

"I was thinking about going down to Windsor and attending a Polo match on Saturday." She said, after dinner. Mabel was still giving his glances but Lucy had given her a look to back off. "I thought I'd get a party together, have a luncheon, make a day of it. Maybe stop somewhere along the way before dinner. Are you fond of polo?"

"I've hardly ever watched it. I'd prefer a cricket match." He was starting ahead or at his glass, he barley made eye contact with her. She was used to the lapse of silence he would sometimes have. It was a normalcy to her. She hadn't known the Matthew Crawley that was never lost for words.

"Lord Dudley-Ward will be having a ball that week and a dinner party."

"I was invited to that too." So many coincidences, it wouldn't beg the question to suspect that somebody had a hand in this. There were forces at work. And were those forces named Gillingham and Rose. Cora clearly wanted it to be Emma. Emma made an effort to be friends with him at least. She'd been spending a lot of time with Tom. Tony continued to bring Mabel, who would still tried to make eyes at him. And there was Miss Dudley-Ward, she wasn't a bad person, he just wasn't interested. He didn't know how to tell her without hurting her feelings. Lucy, Lady Weston, he didn't know what to do or think about her yet.

Where ever things went, he would choose for himself. He felt like he didn't have complete control over everything yet but one thing for sure, he'd have control over this.

"Freda will be hosting." Lucy caught his expression. "She knows you're off limits." She continued. "She's a good friend. She won't mind if we chuck, she'll still have even numbers. We can go to Windsor instead. Though she'd be upset."

"About us not attending?"

She shook her head. "She's expect me to be there, for support. She's a bit upset they couldn't get the Prince of Wales. I don't know why she's persistent with him. She's a smart girl to be perusing something that won't work out."

"She is quite the scholar." He brought up the conversation they had the night of the ball, about literature and many subjects a man would think inappropriate for a woman to talk about. Freda had intelligence and class. He had been intrigued and fascinated.

"She's a nice little thing but stubborn as a donkey when she sets her mind on things. I don't know why she'd settle for less, just for a position."

"You think there's something else that should be important?" He had been waiting for one of them to say that. He wanted to know if she really meant it.

"Isn't love important?"

He looked away.

"For some people." She added. "She'll still be too preoccupied instead of what she could have right in front of her. What a shame. A nice ball in Mayfair on a fine evening, it's just the right time for a romance."

What he said next surprised her, "Well, I hadn't thought about it till now, but I suppose, I could give it a go, if that's what you want." _A romance? With him? No_, _surely not._ He was agreeing to go with her to Windsor. He never went anywhere else with her unless it had been arranged. "We can chuck." He smiled snarkly.

"Are you sure?"

"It sounds like fun. I'd love to come."

* * *

_**AN: I am going to take a break for awhile, and edit this chapter later, when I figure out where this goes next. Lucy will be his main love interest. Emma becomes close friends with Matthew but has eyes for Tom. Both women are hiding scandals of their own and fleeing from their past. Lucy from a loveless first marriage and her husbands secret he took to the grave, and the true cause of her mother's death. And Emma, fleeing from a nasty divorce and an abusive husband, who ends up finding her and threatening her. He discovers that Emma had hid their child so he couldn't find him. He later turns up dead by being hit by a train, after he attacks Anna. Bates is under suspicion and eventually Emma. **_

_**Emma takes George out for a walk. **__**Matthew returns home to Downton after work and cannot find George and goes into a panic. Cora fears the worst that has happened, that Emma has taken off with him, and has broken over the grief of the loss of her own child, but doesn't tell anyone. Everyone is about to send out a search party when Emma comes back with George in his pram, saying she left a note, that has fallen of the table or was hidden by something. **_

_**Matthew eventually does marry Lucy, two years after Mary's death, but he has intimacy issue 'marital duties' with Lucy, which she confides in Anna about. At first he wanted to put the wedding off for the next summer but they agreed on 'this summer' **_

_**They eventually find a new way to love. A different kind of love. Lucy makes him believe that a person can have more than one soulmate, even if she doesn't believe it herself. **_

_**I have several ideas for other stories in mind**_

_**Second Chances: **_

_**What if Miss Hughes refused to help Ethel, and Isobel stepped in? After losing her child, Ethel is hired as Matthew's sick maid, playing a great importance, and many others, in his recovery, during 1917 and late 1918 Takes place during Forever and Ever Universe. The characters inner thoughts. War has a way of distinguishing what is important and what isn't.**_

_**A Very Crawley Christmas **_

_**1927: The Crawley's celebrate Christmas, with Mary and Matthew's children, George, six, Josephine, five, Kate, three, one year old Andy and baby Caroline. Carson dresses up as Santa. Silliness ensues. **_

_** And finally an untitled work, a Downton Abbey/Legion crossover **_

_**David Haller wakes up, people he doesn't recognize say that he is Matthew Crawley and he has been in a car accent. **_

_** He speaks in an American accent. Male Carry sometimes appears as Dr Clarkson, telling David that this his 'maze' That the world of Downton is the reality he created, (w**_**_hile he was in Clockworks he watched a lot of period dramas. It takes his a while to remember this, as he was on medication but still powerful to create it and he made Mary and Lavinia, appears as Syd briefly as he looks at a photo of her, because she was a woman he could touch)_**_**and 'Matthew Crawley' was one of the **_**_personalities, (that was created by David, his personalities act as anti-bodies and Faruk is trying to get rid of all of them. Carry reveals his theory that Faruk's true plan is to distract them thinking he's killing them so he can take back David's body instead of searching for his, all along._**

_** A Very Crawley Christmas and this one are up for grabs, if anyone wants it. I will be back after the Holidays if not sooner. Happy Christmas every one. **_


	7. 1 year four-six months

Tony and Mabel joined them in Windsor for a 'double date' Lucy had suggested it. If they had gone alone it wouldn't have been appropriate, even though they were friends, going with friends. _This is woman is confusing. More so than Mary ever was. Something about her made him want to come back. _

Was it love he felt for her? No. He was sure it wasn't that. He did feel deeply for her. He didn't know if he could open his heart to love just yet.

Blast Rose's prediction. He had more woman than he knew what to deal with. It seemed they kept coming at him from different angles, ever since The London season. He shouldn't have listened to Edith's advice, or so

Mabel's apparent attraction to him was a nuisance. It was his looks and his money and future estate that she was more interested in as him as a person.

Miss Emma Carmichael, she had gone back to her maiden name, Levinson, and he didn't bother to ask. He thought of her as more of an acquaintance. She was good with children. When she had picked up a wailing George from Matthew's lap, _"Here, let me." George had immediately quieted. "Looks like someone is teething. They get rather cranky at this stage. Or so I heard." _

_"Oh good."He had said, I was worried he was getting tired of me." _

_ "Nonsense. There is no doubt he loves his papa."_

Cousin Violet was surprised, more so by the gesture of her picking him up, (as if she felt it was needed to ask permission) and Cora looked livid, like she'd seen a ghost.

And she had looked absolutely insulted when George had called Lucy, Mama'. He had dropped his rattle on the floor, from his highchair and Lucy had gone to pick it up. His mother had stepped in, saying they don't know what they're really saying at that age. If he ever did take another wife, he wanted her to be more than just a mother to George. It wouldn't be for that reason.

He still couldn't help thinking, _George must be so confused_. He was still confused. He had to put his feelings in order and in check before he decided on anything. _With all these strange women around._ _They all must be thinking that_.

And Cora still blamed him, if not intentionally. Edith was rather silent during that debacle. He was sure she would have said something at another given time. She hadn't been checking on him as she used to. She was still going through her own things. They family was falling apart, it seemed, or at least going it's separate ways. It had taken him this long for him to realise the extent. He had been slightly aware. He had during the time had had spent with Elise, just as friends.

Great! Now he was thinking about her. She had been gone for some time now.

He'd have dinner with her, in the early days and months, the total of six months, before she had departed from his life. He missed their talks. He didn't have to think when he was with her, when things had gotten a bit easier. On Fridays when he'd work late, he'd tell them that he was seeing a client. He'd dine with her at her home. Solange would make excellent meals, she'd give Miss Patmore a run for her money.

He kept this is a secret,(it had felt like a dirty one, even though it was entirely innocent) because they would get the wrong idea, misunderstand. He didn't even understand it himself. There had really been no reason to see Elise every week. He had liked talking to her. Her company had been refreshing. Their talks reminded him of his and Mary's, when he'd come home late, they'd take a tray in bed, (he hadn't done THAT with Elise.) and discuss their day.

It was refreshing because the house had become too silent, withdrawn. They didn't know what to say to them, walking on eggshells. She hadn't known Mary and there would be no questions of her, even though their was curiosity about his first wife. Elise made him feel welcome. For those few hours, he didn't feel lonely.

He'd talk to her mostly about business, about some of his cases. If she ever got tired of it, she didn't show it.

He had told her one night that one of his clients was struggling with his shop. After the war, even a few years later, it was still hard to find young fellows to employ. _"He built his business from the ground up when he came from Germany, to be free of oppression and give his son a better life. His son had grown up to believe that warfare was a means of useless violence. He refused to join up. Recently his father's shop was looted and damaged but there's evidence that he done it himself, for the insurance." _

_"You had to excuse him?" _

_"What choice did I have. Now he could loose his shop. I__ gave him a postponement to get his affairs in order." _

_"What happened to the son?" _

_"His appeal was denied, the court said he'd be fighting with the French against his own nationality. He was later sent to a labour battalion." _

"_Was it a good fitting for him?" _

_"It was practical. I wish I could have done more." He was almost choking on his words but he would not break down in front of her. "He lost his only son and now he's about to lose his livelihood." He put his hand to his face, making a fist pinched the bridge of his nose._

_"It is hard. This." Law was the law. Monsieur Matthew wanted to help him but he couldn't without facing legal repercussions himself. _

_"What must you think of me? Listening to me going on about my day. When it must bore you to tears. I don't know why..."_

_"You don't?" _

_She was so close to his, he could smell her perfume, intoxication. He seemed to sway a little on his feet as he found himself staring at her soft plump lips that appeared to be in a permanent pout. _

_"I think I have come over something. I was feeling a bit dizzy just then. The sherry must have gone to my head." _

_She was laughing at him, in her eyes. "It is not the sherry. My Cherie!"_

_"Now, I've told you not to call me that. I am you're employer. I have your welfare at heart. I feel a responsibility. I regard you as a friend." _

_"A friend. Is that all?" She gave a small nod. He didn't have to give her an answer or show any expression that he was serious. "Friends, we shall." _

_He turned his head away from her. "I think I ought to go. It's probably not wise. I ought not to visit you at home. We can discuss business at the office."_

_"But I do not like to, to discuss things there. It is more convenient here. You go to your clients homes." _

_"Yes, but..." She wasn't. _

_"Monsieur Crawley, please sit." She took his arm and motioned to the dinning chair. The small table with two chairs resided in the corner of the lounge. The place was so small, there was no where else for it. "You are safe from me." She patted his arm. "Supper is done. Don't you smell?" She let go of him to sniff the air. "And you are hungry. We shall be as proper as you like. You do nothing wrong here." She said as she sat down. _

_He was silent. _

_He was attracted to her, of course and he was interested her but not in that way, and she was interested in him. But he would never. He loved his wife. He wouldn't betray her when she was barely cold in the ground, for four months. _

_They must put an end to this. It would be bleak without their little dinners. The dinners at home were bleak, silent. _

_They were just friends. He's doing nothing wrong.  
"It would be awful to waste all this food." Even her eyelashes seemed to pout, above her naturally wide eyes, that withheld more expression than the average person. "After Solange's hard work. People are still starving in Germany." _

_"Yes, it would." He said as he turned his back and hung up his coat. He sat down. **She may flirt but she's emotionally unavailable like me.** He wouldn't normally go for a woman like her, even if he wanted. She would just want a psychical relationship. He couldn't do that. He wanted more that, eventually. She would never be able to give him that.  
_

_Solange without a word as always, put down their plates in front of them and went back to the kitchen. _

_"I have some matters to raise with you about the investments." He said, reinforcing that they were strictly business._

_"Of course you do." She took a bite of her food and looked up at him. He couldn't read her expression. Mary probably would have been furious, that he was avoiding the real discussion, what was bothering him. A part of him wanted her to ask. But he knew she never would. Another sign that they couldn't possibly be good together. He couldn't decipher Elise real motives when it came to him, what she was feeling about him. But one thing was clear, her eyes were laughing at him again. _

He focused on the match. He hated when people asked him what he was thinking about. The women were sitting next to each other. He could tell where he was sitting, and from Lucy's posture that she wasn't really interested in what Mabel was saying. Lucy thought about much deeper, meaningful things.

"Does she look distracted?" Tony leaned in and asked him.

"What?" He wasn't asking that to him, when he clearly was? Or was Tony not good at reading him? He followed his gaze, "Mabel? I wouldn't know.

"I won't pretend any longer that I don't see the way she looks at you." His voice wasn't accusing. He was hiding it. Matthew knew. He was far too much like him. He knew if things were reversed and it had been him that had been the one that died, Mary wouldn't go with him. She wouldn't want another man like him. She would always be comparing them. Just the way he had felt.

"You blame me?"

"No, I wouldn't blame you. Mabel and I had an arrangement. Our engagement was one of convince." Why was Tony telling him this now. He pondered over it all for a moment, before he realised his use of past tense.

"Was?"

"We called it off. If you were interested..."

"I'm not interested. Even if I was, I would never."

"Crawley, sometimes you're too much like him, that it's damn irritating." There was a hint of a laugh in Tony's voice.

A smile spread across Matthew's face. "Don't I know it? Even if I wanted to, I'm not interested. I don't think I'll be at that point anytime soon. Besides, it's clear that she's only interested because I have more money and I'll require a bigger estate."

"Position and security do matter to her, but not in the way you think. I can't discuss it. She'll have to tell you." Before Matthew could speak he made a slight gesture of putting up his hand, "You're being too hard on yourself. And you're wrong about her. Get a chance to know her."

He'd make the effort to have a real conversation with her at least, when it was just the two of them, see if would talk about personal things without being under the watchful pressure of others.

* * *

The family was out to dinner. Anna and Bates joined them. They had almost been thrown out because the host didn't believe that they knew Lady Grantham. Cora had it all cleared up in no time.

He got Mabel alone, over by the buffet. He'd find a way to ease into the conversation. He could start with an apology.

"I'm sorry that I have made a rather harsh judgment on you."

She appeared to have no clue what he was talking about. "Have you?" She had noticed. But it seemed that no matter what Matthew Crawley did, he could do no wrong.

"I let my grief blind me."

"It's understandable."

Was it? What could she possibly know about grief?

She looked down, over the food as if trying to decide what was good enough to eat. Distracting herself? Was he really that boring? He wasn't good at this, not that he was just out of practice. He was never good at this. Mary had been attacked to his notorious attempts and at his 'dad jokes' even before he was one. Mabel was from a different generation. He was old before his time, in spirit. But he has no intention of flirting. Just trying to talk to a woman. Lucy was probably used to it.

"I thought you were interested in me just because of my position and money."

"You would be half right." She turned back to the food. She placed her plate back. Nothing appealed to her. Perhaps a salad for later. She stood, locking her eyes with his. They were so intensely blue. She had never seen anything like them. They were the first thing she had noticed about him, that drew her in. He could get any woman he wanted, if he made an effort. Was he trying with her? She didn't know how far it would go. Of course it would feel like a betrayal to Tony at first, more so to Matthew. He could be so stiff sometimes. Maybe if he let himself be more lied back.

He could bed any woman with one glance of those eyes. But he wasn't that type of man, not her usual type. But she felt a pull toward him. She had her own lures of her own. She had been stumped when it hadn't worked with him. Well, he had been grieving after all. Even so, if he hadn't been or hadn't been married before, she had a feeling it still wouldn't have worked. She could get almost any man she wanted too. But that's not what she wanted right now. She wanted to talk to him, actually talk about actual things. It's like he had a spell over her that wanted to tell him everything, the truth.

"Can I have a word with you, in private? I have something I want to talk to you about. I feel I can trust you with it?"

"Of course you can."

They found a large hall, with a single lounge sofa, that was between the powder room and a corridor, separating the dinning room. No one would be coming back here. It was roped off, the bathroom closed for repaires. That probably put a bit of a damper on Cora's party.

"I feel like I'll be getting into trouble, sneaking off like this!" She said, ducking under the rope. "Don't you love that feeling? " She plopped down on the sofa. "Do you think they'll notice we've gone?"

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" He hoped this wasn't a ruse to get him alone and she was trying to steal an intiment moment with him. He had no time for such a childish game.

"I suppose Tony told you about our arrangement." She said.

"He did."

"But not everything?" She asked. He nodded. "Good old Tony. He's a good friend to me. He would have never called it off, so I had to."

"You did?"

Tony's 'we' had meant her. He should have known.

"You see, we never really loved each other." She continued. "It wasn't even one sided as he thought. That's why he wouldn't call it off, unless I told him."

"It must still be very devastating."

"Not really." She shrugged.

For Tony. He found himself a bit angry and growing impatient. He had no patience going through another Mary, breaking down walls. Something was still lacking in her. He could get to know her more but he doubted anything would change.

"It was one of convenience. More about money."

"I see."

"Not like that. I don't want you to think me imprudent. It's my brother. He's been sick. Since the war. He's in a facility especially for soldiers and it's expensive. It gives him the most excellent care. Tony and him are friends, that's how we met. He offered to pay the bills, and by marrying him, I thought I would be repaying him, that we'd be secured for life."

"I wish you could have told me that for the start. But then again, you didn't know me from Adam."

"Adam." She said fondly, with a great pain behind it. "That's my brothers name."

"Why don't your parents help with the bills, is it too expensive for him?"

"My brother was always the black sheep of the family, always getting into trouble.

* * *

He brought his attention to Emma, who was talking to Tom, who were sitting next to each other at the dinner table. He suppose he should give her a chance. They had gotten off on the wrong start, judging her almost as harshly as Mabel. She had lost her luggage and Cora had said it would be alright for her to wear one of Mary's, Sybil's would have been to short for her. She hadn't deserved how he had treated her, with his quip remarks the first weeks he had She was a nice, sweet person, like Lavinia had been. They had become great friends. But the way she was talking with Tom. She was so good with Sybie and George, maybe she'd make a good aunt to them someday.

"Sorry, I wasn't able to make it to the dinner party." Lucy was saying to him. "I heard Anna and Bates crashed it. " She teased, trying to get attention. "I wish I could have been there to see it. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"What?"

"Matthew, where were you just now? You were millions of miles away."

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing important."

* * *

"So you're seeing Mabel Lane Fox?" Lucy asked him after dinner, they were in the day room, that no one would be occupying, thanks to English tradition. They could be alone.

"We're just friends." He stated.

"Do you think it could be more?"

"I don't know. It could but I don't think it will. Why? Does it bother you? Does it make you jealous?" He teased her. Then his voice dropped into a serious tone, "I thought I'd be grieving Mary for the rest of my life, forever doomed, spending the rest of my days alone, now I know that's not the case."

"Does that mean that I stand a chance?" Her eyes fluttered to him.

It suddenly dawned on him. Of course. Why hadn't he seen it until now? He didn't want to ask when she had started to notice him. He didn't want to sound like a complete utter fool.

"It would all depend on who's in the running, wouldn't it?" He asked her, rhetorically.

"And who is in the running? I need to know how to up my game."

"Just Mabel. I don't think there will be that much competition. We all know who would win."

"Do we?" She raised her blonde eyebrows. So delicate. But she defiantly wasn't. Mabel seemed so complicated and Lucy was so simple, easy, safe. But was that what he wanted to settle for? He didn't want complicated. "Well, then." She said after a moment, let the battle commonsense?"

"Let the battle commonsense." He took her gloved hand smiling at her.

* * *

He had thought he had heard his voice, he was making his way downstairs to the servants hall, forgetting immediately what he was going down here in the first place. There was no mistaking it. She was the only French woman he knew besides Solange.

"Monsieur Matthew!" She jumped up and threw her hands around him, kissing his cheeks, the normal French greeting. The cultural shock shook Carson. She seemed a nice woman, he overheard his grating later, though he thought them a bit vulgar. _ "You think any display of emotion is vulgar." _Had been Miss Hughes reply, their voices carried out of the office. When Daisy had Anna had come in wearing their dance uniforms, the butler looked like he was about to faint,

Elise was staying in the village, she needed the temporary work. She would be hosting the servants dance. She'd been teaching Daisy and Anna, (improving her skill from Rose) she had heard them talking about the Abbey. She had to come to see him. She would be residing in one of the cottages for the week. This was just what he needed, after he thought he had things figured out, sure of what he wanted. Then she shows up, stiring up feelings, he could not place. When Daisy and Anna had entered wearing their dance uniforms Carson was appalled at the display, as Elise was a modern woman of dance. He told Lady Grantham about his disapproval. He was concerned that she could be trouble for Mr Matthew. Cora had just laughed, that's the way the French great each other, even the men Carson." Carson almost blushed. "She can stay with us for the week. Tell her she is welcome. There is no need for her to stay in those awful cottages. She is a friend of Matthews."

"Of course, My Lady." Carson bowed, begrudgingly.

* * *

Cora immediate took to Elise, because she was modern, Matthew thought for this reason (or was she trying to sabotage because she didn't like Mabel? No one would ever be good enough in her eyes) and wanted her to stay at the house. They'd find rooms for her maid. Solange could also help Miss Patmore in the kitchen. "It will be nice to try some French cuisine."

"Me bein." Elise agreed clapping her hands together. "Magnificent."

Downstairs, Elise and Matthew introduced the two cooks. Miss Patmore observed Solange's quiet ways.

"She's not much of a talker, she is?" Miss Patmore asked them quietly. "Does she speak English?"

Matthew hung his head, failing to conceal his smile of laughter, wiping the corner of his eyes, "Solange is a woman of few years. She hardly spoke to Elise at first and didn't speak at all when she met me."

"She's very quiet about her life before." Elise said. "She will warm to you."

"During the war she came to England." Matthew added, to clear any confusion. "We don't know what sort of life she had between then or what she's been through."

"Yes, it's hard to imagine." Miss Hughes said. "But understandable why she wouldn't want to talk much."

* * *

Elise took dinner with the family upstairs instead of in down. The young servants were upset as they had wanted to hear about her world of promised them that she would, on her last night. _I want to see Monsieur Matthew before I take leave. That is why I am here, no?" _

She didn't bring up the dinners that she and Matthew used to have. It wasn't out of loyalty to him. He knew that. She loved to keep it their 'secret' He was still relieved, now matter how wrong that was of her. He had been dreading it. Now he could relax.

That didn't mean that it wouldn't be an awkward dinner.

Elise talked about her dancing and how hoped to launch a career in professional ballet.

"Is this ballet strictly French?" Violet had never heard of it. "Is it new?"

"It's been around for awhile Granny." Edith said.

"I would like to give it a try. If Lady Rose is doing it." Emma, who was often soft spoken, spoke up with interest. Silence fell. There was disapproval and shock radiating off Robert but no one spoke against it, if it weren't for Cora,

"I think it would be great for the girls."

"Oh, yes. It is good exercise." Elise replied. "It looks like you could get some." She directed across the table at Edith.

Edith blushed and looked offended, trying to keep it at bay by almost holding her breath, by the looks of it. She had put on a little weight after the birth of her daughter.

"I do not mean offense." Elise immediately apologized.

"How is it that you know Matthew?" Robert asked.

"She was his secretary at the London office." Cora said, smiling. She was playing it on a little too strong. Matthew thought. It made him think that she could have anterior motives.

"I moved on, as they say." She made a strange gesture with her head, "It was generous of Monsieur Matthew. Solange and I struggle to find work, I fear I cannot keep her as my maid, and here come this man, He gave up both jobs."

"He is very generous." The smile didn't leave Cora's face. "How long have you been in England?"

"Five years. My English is horrible, as you could see. I do not know proper nouns.

"You almost speak it like a native."

"You must think us barbarians, us foreigners." The English loved to hold fast on tradition. That often meant foreigners, not welcome. Some of them thought the French too weak. Matthew was a traditional man, but he was not like that.

"I think you're the beacon of civilized behavior." Matthew said, smiling.

"Do you mean me?" It sounded a little flirtatious. It was their playful banter. For one moment there was no one in the room. Then suddenly, painfully aware. He felt even more embarrassed now.

"The French as a people in general." Elise expressed a look that said she didn't quite believe him.

The rest of the dinner was quite.

* * *

The older ladies retired to the sitting room afterwords, Violet, Cora, and Isobel.

"She's too much of a wild thing." Violet said, "dancers never settle down. That almost weeds out the undesirable prospects." She glanced at her daughter in-law.

"What do you mean?" Cora asked. "First you say Emma is far too sweet."

"I'm talking about Mabel. That woman is far too ignorant."

"No one will please you, will they Violet?" Cora asked.

"I could say the same about you." Violet gave her an accusing glance.

"I rather like Lady Weston." Isobel stated. "But that is for Matthew to decided. I think we have more important things that we need to discuss."

* * *

Lucy and the Dowager Countess were taking tea at the Dower House. Violet was curious as to why Lucy had arranged this meeting.

"What exactly is it, that you came here for?"

"I meant to ask you something."

"Yes? " A silence lapsed. "It better not take all day, I'm not as spry as I used to be. And it better be worth the time." She said, sarcastic.

"How do you know when you're in love with someone?" Lucy felt foolish for asking it to Lady Violet. She was almost in her mid-thirties. The woman had seen it all, she was the best choice to be approached with this.

The old woman sat back in her chair, thinking for a moment. She didn't seem to think it foolish at all. "When my husband, this was before he was my husband and before we were engaged, I saw him with someone else. And it felt as if I had died. That my dear, is how I know." She patted Lady Weston's hand. She had come to like her. She already felt like a member of the family. Whatever Matthew decided, she hoped he wasn't blind and didn't miss the opportunity, the better choice that was right in front of him, she always would be.

* * *

It didn't bother Lucy when she knew he was with Mabel, Mabel was younger, ten years younger than Matthew. She didn't feel threatened by that. Perhaps, it was because she knew it wouldn't go anywhere. He would chose her in the end. She had come to realise, just as he said that he had thought that he couldn't love anyone again, that he thought he'd never get over Mary, that she could open her heart again as well.

That was until she saw them kissing. Well, him kissing her. The French woman. She understood the appeal. The exoticness of her. She was much more attractive. How easily it felt he could toss her aside. She stood no chance.

* * *

It was the end of the week. She was leaving him. Everyone left him. All his friends in the war, Mary. Elise. He asked her why she had bothered to come.

"To say a proper goodbye. I know you've had a bad break, after losing your wife but don't let it continue to knock you off the rails. You'll find someone and that someone..."

"Is not you." He finished for her.

"No. We are no good together. My dancing will always be important."

"Can't we..."

"You will find someone and when you do, you'd not want someone like me in your background. Someone like her." She was referring to Mabel, we are not so much unlike each other. You deserve better."

They kissed and then when they broke apart, she simply held his hands. That small gesture made him feel grounded again.

He had felt somewhat removed lately and he didn't know why. It was like he was part of a different world, similar to how he had felt the first few years after the war. Mabel had seen one of his nightmares, when he had fallen asleep in the arm chair in the sitting room. She had known what to do. Would Lucy? She had been a nurse in France during the war. She had to have seen the soldiers suffering from the visions they could not erase or escape from. It hadn't just been the nightmares in the beginning. There had been lapses, where he'd 'go away' He would never hardly remember them. He would never talk about them with Mary and she would never ask, she would just wait till he came out of them. As for the nightmares, she would comfort him, and not say anything more. Mabel's comfort, had been more than just comfort. And he felt ashamed. More so about what it would do to Lucy, than his giving into temptation. He hadn't allowed himself to resist. He gave in, wanting to have, feeling something, a woman's touch and passion. He knows it meant nothing, and understands why Mary had given in to Pamuk. He had wanted to give into Elise and she had clearly wanted nothing more to. Both woman had been using him for his body, and he knew it. Elise hadn't needed to hide it, unlike Mabel. He tried to convince Elise to stay. He believed there was an actual chance, that she could love him. She wouldn't have to worry about the demands that came with being a countess. She could have her dancing, until she retired.

"I am not fit live like a Queen."

"I didn't think I would ever adjust to this life."

She shook her head. "I know the story, a good Christian man, wanting to save a french whore, like me."

"You're not."

"How do you know I pay my way to London? I'm not the marrying kind, me. Let's leave it at that. " She hid that it was destroying her. How great their passion would be. She had destroyed her own life and was paying for it. She thought perhaps she could have come to love him, teach their girls ballet, she invisioned that they would have had nothing but girls, take vacations in Paris, and the beaches...sand castles in the sand, (chasing them into the low tide and scooping them up in his arms, she pictured her daughters older than master George,)make the two and a half hour journey to Normandy, would have been worth it. If this had been a different life. She was not a redeemable person. She could never have children again. He would want more children someday. It would not do to ruin his reputation if anyone were to find out. She would not destroy him. He could have been a great love. That was the real reason she had to say goodbye. "I will say nothing more."

Just within those few weeks after, Mabel broke it off with him, not before going back to Tony, announcing their engagement was back on. It had been a awful thing to do, people knowing that they had still been going together. Matthew hadn't really cared. Tony, surely had no clue that she hadn't broken off things with Matthew officially when she had dropped the news to everyone.

She voice, almost the same words Elise had later that night.

"We're good as lovers, nothing more. Not married. It wouldn't last." He knew she was right but it still hurt. "But I can still hope that I can still have you as my lover."

"You know that on my good conscience that I could not."

She nodded. And with that they parted ways.

Lucy hadn't been in her usual spot at dinner, those last weeks. He hoped she wasn't coming down with something, or even worse, she hasn't left as well. He wouldn't see her outside of the social gatherings but she would not approach him. Just when he thought he was doomed for widower hood, she saw her at the dance, wearing a dress he had never seen her in before, her hair done up. She wouldn't cut her hair short, she was more of a traditionalist, like him.

This time she was walking over to him. They stopped a few inches in front of each other on the dance floor, saying nothing.

"Will you do me the honor?" He was the first one to speak, offering his arm to her. He longed to dance with her. He had missed his dear friend. His friend. But wasn't it important for someone you loved to be your friend as well? He scolded himself. He must keep his feelings in check.

"I heard about Mabel." She said sympathetically.

"Is that all you came over here for?"

She just shook her head. "I just wanted this dance."

"Did you have a good summer?" He asked her. She did not answer. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"I haven't see you since I heard you left the village hospital."

"You've seen me since then."

"Only because we happened to be at the same social function like tonight. And those other nights you wouldn't approach me, as you did now."

"One can hardly discuss such things on the dance floor. There's a corridor at the end of the room. Can we go there and talk properly?" They danced to the end of the room, and he whirled him around, to a stop at the entrance.

"Now,

"There's nothing to explain...does this have to do with

"It had nothing to do with that at all. I saw you kissing her. Your french dancer."

"It meant nothing. We were saying goodbye."

"It looked like you were quite enjoying it."

"I had. But we never had anything. I cared about you. I do. I care deeply for you. I value our friendship, I can't tell you how much..."

"Do you know how it felt? It felt like it was killing me, when I saw you with her."

"Lucy, I'm..."

"I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I didn't want to. I kept fighting it. My husband lied to be for almost eleven years, making me believe that he loved me. You have to make up your mind. I won't waste my time." She turned to leave but he grabbed her gloved wrist.

"I know I've been dancing around my feelings. I can't wait any longer either." He paused, gathering the words, "I love you, Lucy. I realised that when I told you that I could let Mary go. But I was foolish. I was the one being childish, instinctively choosing women that were clearly wrong for me. I made the same mistake that she did. We'd always skate around things, in the beginning. It took us years to find each other again. I don't want to...I can't go through that again. Just please, tell me I'm not to late."

She saw his eyes, filled with pain and sorrow. How could she turn him away now? It would break his heart, destroy him, and it would do the same to her as well. She wanted to kiss his pain away.

"Of course, not."

He looked up at her stunned, not believing what he was hearing, believing he didn't deserve it. She took his hand.

"I love you, Lucy." He said again. "It's always been you. I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"Alright." He looked at her wide eyed. "You don't have to ask properly. The sooner we can get married the better. "

He was happier than he'd been in a long while. They continued dancing, planning not to tell anyone of their engagement yet. It didn't mean they could spent time together, out in public. He would need at least a little time.

"I suppose I can't see why we can go out as friends.

From across the dance floor, she could see Rose and Edith, they were both smiling brightly. After the song ended he went over to them.

"Did you two plan this?"

"We did." Rose said. "You and Lady Weston were so sweet during the season last November."

"And you were both miserable for weeks now." Edith added.

"So what's happened? Are you engaged?" Rose asked.

"Only unofficially. This is a secret, you understand. One is to know."

"We promise. I'm so pleased for you. We won't say anything." Rose stood up from her chair, pressing her lips together as if she could barely contain herself. She went out to join the others on the dance floor.

Matthew sat down. "I'm more concerned what people will think. It's been a year."

"A year and a half. I don't suppose people will think anything. They know you're fond of each other. I imagine they'll be expecting it. They might be shocked if you don't." Edith silently wished her cousin all the happiness that would come with a married life. She would never be happy again, not truly. She would live with the guilt of giving up her child. No man would want her. Just then, a man with sandy hair came up to her and asked her to dance. That man was Bertie Pelman.


End file.
